The Daughter of a Celebrity
by Anna Black
Summary: We all know everything about Harry Potter. What about his possible daughter?? Pleez read!! My style is soo much better here than in A Glimpse to the Past.
1. The Muggle Way

Disclaimer: I do not own HP (sob)

Disclaimer: I do not own HP (sob). I wish I did, but I don't. I don't own the Beatles either. Maybe I own the Beatles 1, but not the group. So just read this and tell me what you think.

~

Alice wiped the steaming dishes with a strawberry towel. She always preferred the Muggle way when she did her chores; she got her magic practice during homework, and besides, she trusted herself this way.

She pressed her finger against the china and rubbed under the running water. It squeaked, and Alice smiled. She stacked it on the other five tea saucers and reached for the hair-drier. When it was being used, it omitted a smell like burnt soap, and maybe that was why Alice always drip-dried her hair. Or maybe she liked bragging to her father about being immune to so many illnesses by going to be with wet hair when he had a bout of sniffles once every two weeks. But it didn't matter. She clicked it on and dried the dishes. So what if her dad complained that dishes should smell like the peaches in his daughter's cheeks, not her unruly black hair on fire? She didn't care. And it left her time to vacuum the house, which, heaven knew, could take _days_.

"In the town where I was born, lived a ma-a-an, who sailed to sea …" Anna moaned in agony.

"Do you _ever_ get tired of that CD, Dad?" she shouted down the hall.

"Nope!" he replied from one of the thirteen dens in the mansion. "The Beatles will rise again! You just wait and see!" 

"In your dreams, old timer!" she laughed.

"Watch it, Miss-Sixth-Year! You're going on sweet sixteen! You don't want to spoil this _precious _time in your life with insults, do you?" He chuckled deeply at his own really bad joke.

"You bet! And I won't stop until you take me to see Godpop this summer!"

"Well, I WOULD take a mature young lady to visit an Anamaji, but since there are none present to accompany me …"

"Dad!" 

"Go and get your stuff together, Miss Potter. The double-broom leaves in twenty minutes!"

"Dad! You are so cruel!" Laughter echoed down the hall as Alice ran down the red and gold corridor to her room.


	2. Potter Blood

Disclaimer: IF YOU THINK I OWN HARRY POTTER, YOU'RE NUTS

Disclaimer: IF YOU THINK I OWN HARRY POTTER, YOU'RE NUTS!! I own nothing. JK Rowling is welcome to use any of my ideas if she wants to. Again, I don't own the Beatles, either.

~

Alice slung her purse over her right shoulder as she fled to the balcony tripping on her robe-hems and stumbling on her high-heels. "Silver and Blue, Silver and Blue. Come on Ravenclaw, be the truest of true!" she panted.

Her dad hovered on the Firebolt 5000 and scanned his only child with emerald green eyes. They were the only features Alice was jealous of. Hers were a dull gray. 

She still remembered the Sorting Hat whispering in her ear. _"Hmmm … interesting combination … Slytherin and Gryffindor. I haven't seen one of these since … but whatever shall I put you in? I can't put you in Gryffindor, certainly …"_

_Please not Slytherin._

_"Your father said the exact same thing! Well … I suppose it must be RAVENCLAW!"_

Alice shook her head and climbed on the broom. 

Harry nodded at her feet. "Are you sure those won't fall off?"

Alice smiled at her father. "Positive. Why do you worry so much?"

"'Cause I'm your father and those shoes cost as much as my wand."

"You mean back in the age of the dinosaurs?"

"Yeah. Back when Dumbledore roamed the earth. Now come on, I told Padfoot we'd be there in thirty minutes …"

Alice patted her dad's solid and tense back in front of her. "I'm on. Let's go."

Harry turned and grinned mischievously at her like she had seen in the few photos that her dad kept around the house. Alice smiled to see her dad so truly happy. "Hang on, beach babe. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Alice gripped the shining oak handle tighter. She knew better than to kid her dad about flying. 

Harry's eyes shone with glee. His foot acted like he was in a car, revving up the gas. Alice caught a snatch of "She's a Little ole Lady from Pasadena," on the air before the broom shot through the wind. Alice let out a little burst of energy in a scream. Her dad glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He laughed as she started singing, "Ticket to Ride."

"Told you the Beatles ruled!"

Alice blushed a deep scarlet. 

They flew over raging rivers and quiet farms, busy cities and small towns. Harry even pointed at the Burrow. "Maybe we'll visit Uncle Ron on our way back," he shouted over the high-pitched screech of the wind. They passed over London and Alice's father flew above the clouds. Alice liked this part best. The pressure was terrible for her hearing, but the sights were the most beautiful Alice ever saw. Alice looked quietly around her. Five minutes later, Harry lowered them down out of the puffy shapes. Alice stretched her jaw and her ears popped. She did the same a few times over and it kept happening. She muttered a small line from the Gettysburg Address to test her hearing. She could hear it well enough. 

The broom passed over a large castle made of black marble and Alice's heart stretched. It always happened when they flew over this part of England. Alice had made up her mind to move into this place if it was ever put up for sale. 

Finally, a brick manor presented itself to them proudly. Harry plummeted to the ground and Alice screeched. She may have lived with him for her whole life, but she would never be able to adjust to his direct nosedives. For the umpteenth time, he swerved away from the ground just as Alice was sure they would die this time. 

"Milady," Harry said as he stepped off the broom and offered his hand to his daughter. His eyes twinkled behind his round, black frames.

"I wish you'd stop doing that, Dad. It scares the shit out of me."

"Watch your language, young lady. I don't have a problem with it at home, but you know how Padfoot is …"

"I will."

"Sure. That's what you always say and somehow the end of the day, I'm always getting a lecture about how I should discipline you more sternly."

"Whatever."

Harry turned and walked to the bronze door at the front of the large building. Alice followed quietly behind him. Harry raised the large brass ring that rested in the mouth of a wolf. Her dad always smiled solemnly here, but Alice never understood why.

A butler answered the door and grinned. "Nice to see you again Mr. Potter, Miss Potter." Alice blushed at being addressed so formally. "Mr. Black is in the sitting room. I'll announce you."

"Don't bother, Tucker. We'll get there ourselves." Harry punched the new graduate of Hogwarts on the shoulder. Harry had always favored the young man and had coached him in Dark Arts Defense as well as Quidditch, while Sirius had courteously assisted him with every other subject, and Tucker had become a master at Transfiguration. 

Harry walked smartly down the second hallway in the Rotunda, his scarlet robes with gold leaf trimming on the hems billowing out behind him. Alice flashed a smile at his back as he ran his fingers through his hair and caught a few tangles. Alice merely tucked a few stray hairs behind and stretched her sleeves straight. Harry turned at a random into a doorway. "Oh my God!" he screamed. "Alice, run! Don't look back, just run!"

Alice didn't bother to ask. Like her father had told her, she ran. She ran away from the terror behind her until she reached the rotunda. Tucker was dusting a vase with a portrait of a forest with a wolf, a stag, and a dog. "Tucker!" she gasped. "Tucker, you have to help me! We have to leave!"

Tucker stammered. "I-I-I don't understand …"

"I don't either, God damn it! We just need to leave!" A shot from a gun rang out down the hall. "Move, Tucker! What more encouragement do you need? Our broom's outside, now let's go!" She got behind him and began to push his back. Tucker seemed to finally understand the urgency of the situation and began to trot. "It's over there!" she shouted and pointed at the large oak tree the Firebolt was propped up against. 

Alice wrapped her hands around the handle and straddled the front. She instinctively knew that she would know more about controlling this special kind of broom. _He might be an excellent Chaser,_ she thought, _but I doubt he knows squat about family brooms._

She felt the broom vibrate and she knew Tucker was ready behind. So this was what it felt like, to have someone ready behind her and ready to take over if you fail. Alice had never been in a serious relationship before, and even if this wasn't a serious one, it felt good to have support from someone besides beside her father and a mother she never knew. Her dad had always said … shit, now was not a time be crying. She wiped the tears on her sleeve and jerked up on the handle. It rose sharply and Alice's fears left her and stayed on the ground. Here she was herself, with generations of Potter blood running through her veins, and whatever was going on below her on that tiny world underneath them, it didn't matter. Because she was a Potter. And she would grab the reins of the wild horses that fled before her and would pull the team to a standstill until the world stopped spinning. Because she was a Potter.


	3. The Weasleys

Disclaimer: Okay. You know the basics. I'm not JK Rowling. Otherwise I wouldn't call myself Anna Black. And if I'm not JK Rowling, then I do NOT have the rights to publish this. Don't sue me please!! I grovel at your feet Miss Owner-of-All-That-Is-Good!! Spare me!!

A/N: I'm having a lot of fun writing this piece, BUT I am not the one to be rushed. I'll write at my own pace, and I'm telling ya now, it won't be to please the public. I love all you guys that review me, but please don't say, "Please write more soon!" It drives me nuts. Like with my "Harry Potter and the Ornaments of Power," I print off a chapter, wait until everyone stops pestering me to write more (cough cough, Clarinets) and then I type up a storm. I think the review's for telling me what I did wrong and what I did right. Not to tell me to write more. Just lettin' ya know.

~

"You woke up

screaming aloud

A prayer from your secret guard.

You feed off of fears

and hold back your tears.

You give us a tantrum

and a know-it-all grin

Just when the lead wanes

When the evening's thin-"

Sarah McLachlan, Building a Mystery

~

__

"Alice! Run! Rung like hell was after you! Just run! Don't look back!"

"But Dad!" she felt herself screeching. "I can't leave you! I'm not ready! You can't leave! Not just yet!"

"You can! You know you can! Don't tell me you can't!" Her father looked at her with pleading eyes sparkling with a sickly green light. Alice felt hot tears streaming down her cheeks and she wiped them hastily away.

Alice opened her mouth weakly to protest again, but the strong, muscular hands she had beaten so many times in Thumb Wars grabbed her shoulders. He shook her, and it didn't help Alice's sense of confusion.

"Leave! Now! Before –" A bullet in his back prevented him from going further. He stumbled into her arms and her eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief. Behind his usually strong build stood a girl … what was she doing? … she was …beeping?!

Aliceshot up in her bed and the annoying sound of the alarm clock stopped beside her. The sheets were covered in … blood? No, it was sweat. 

The dream clung to her like a tick. Like a tick to a dog. She tried to forget it, but it haunted her.

She swung her feet out from underneath the many quilts and they fell to rest on a warm, soft knit rug. Aunt Ginny had always been a genius with knitting needles. Alice looked down at the morning light playing with the many colors of the floor rug. The deep scarlet shone like red diamonds and the gold like a lantern had been dropped in a plentiful mine. It was unfinished as of yet, since Ginny had visited Libya to see her brother Bill before finishing it. Alice had heard of Bill and had seen pictures of him throughout the house, but she had never met him. She _had_ met his daughters, all but one with the trademark Weasley hair. Willy (who had brown hair) usually turned out at the flung end of jokes, being teased about her hair. Alice felt sorry for her, but there was nothing really to do about it.

Alice trudged to the bathroom and shut the door. She didn't lock it, since it had been a rule in the family since cousin Sybil had slipped and smashed her head on the faucet fixtures. No one had noticed her hand on "Mortal Peril," on the clock and though it had merely taken a few seconds to perform the Alohomora Charm, those few seconds had resulted in permanent amnesia. 

She had come home from St. Mungo's and was being re-taught, but her skill of Divination was gone forever. Her Uncle Ron had said, "No big loss," when the doctor had given the news. Uncle Ron had never believed in premonitions. 

Alice shed her bath robe and lifted her slim, dainty foot into the shower. She turned on the cold water, not the hot. She didn't _want_ a hot shower this particular morning. Everything seemed too dreary and bleak to be able to actually _enjoy_ its warmth. And besides, she needed to wake up.

She heard the door creak open and, out of feminine instinct, she screamed. 

"Oh … I-I-I'm … so sorry!" she heard someone stammer. The door clicked shut.

"It's okay, Tucker," she mumbled.

She scrubbed her hair completely free of any leaves as results from hiding in a thicket for an hour in order to lose anyone on their trail. She ran her fingers through her sleek, moisturized locks one last time and felt nothing. For the first time since leaving her Godfather's estate, she smiled. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. A blue, fluffy towel was resting on the counter and Alice assumed Tucker had brought it. She smiled again, picked it up, and wrapped it around herself. She sat down on the toilet and shivered, as her torso wrapped in warmth while her damp arms were exposed to cold air. She leaned to the front of the counters and opened them. She found the hair-drier and decided, that, this once, she'd actually use one to dry her hair. 

It was magical, so she squeezed it and it turned on. The air coming from it smelled like peaches… 

Alice dropped the drier and turned towards the side of the counter. Her arms folded themselves without much thought and her forehead fell onto its brink. Tears poured out of her eyes. Warm, hard tears. She had cried last night. Hell, the only reason she had gone to sleep was because she had no more tears to cry. Today was a new day, unfortunately, and one Alice would have to spend away from her dad… a new fountain of tears sprung beneath her eyes.

'What's going to happen to me?' she thought between sobs. 'It won't be the same without Dad around…'

Sure, she had been away from her dad at Hogwarts, but that was different. She knew that Harry was alive and well. Now.. well, she didn't want to think about it. There wasn't any real doubt as to the status of her father's life. He was either dead or he was … compared to the alternative, Alice hoped, for her father's sake, that he had died. 

Alice sat crying in misery for twenty-seven minutes without being interrupted. Stealthily and so sharply it made Alice jump, a knock rang clear on the crickety old door. "Alice! I that you in there? Please get out! I need to take a piss!"

"Just a minute Phillip…"

"Peter!"

"Whatever. Just let me get dressed first…"

__

"Don't bother. You don't _have to _… just for _me_…"

"I'd rather, you know. I don't think Uncle Charlie would like to find his _youngest _son-"

"Only by five minutes!"

"_Youngest son_ on the floor with his _niece_…"

"He won't mind."

"Just shut-up Phillip!"

"Peter!"

"Whatever. There's too many sets of Weasley twins to even keep the _groups_ right, much less the names." Alice grabbed her robe from the floor, wrapped herself in it, and tied the belt to make it secure. She opened the door and walked past her younger cousin. He ran in the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Alice grinned. Turning the corner, she bumped into Sybil. She looked up at her with large, watery eyes and mumbled, "Miss Potter? What are you d-d-doing here?"

Alice sighed. "I'm here to visit Aunt Ginny, Sybil."

"But Aunt Ginny i-i-isn't here." Sybil said, speaking slowly and enunciating each syllable. In the accident, Sybil had even forgotten most of the English language. 

Alice remembered, when she was a second year, right after the accident, her dad had wanted to discuss the Muggle Stock Market with Grandpa Arthur and find out if it was a good idea. Alice had walked into her cousin's room and found her mumbling a different language. "Uncle Ron!" she had screamed. The house came alive and Alice still swore to this day that the _supposed _ghoul in their attic had given a little moan and maybe even knocked over an old piece of furniture. Since ghouls had become endangered creature, finding one in your dad's friends' attic was _very _cool indeed.

"Well, I will wait then."

Sybil looked up at her with watery eyes. 

"How are your dolls, Sybil?"

The little girl brightened, and Alice wished she had left the topic alone.

"Well, Miss Clydes-Dale has a cold, but it is nothing a little soup won't fix. Miss Wentworth is currently asleep, and she'll be up… oh no! She's crying for me now! Excuse me! I have to go!"

Alice frowned after the ten-year-old's retreating back. She had been so assured of her speech when she was talking about her dolls, but before that… Alice just shook her head and finished her walk to the guest bedroom, aka Ron's old room. The walls were a loud, terrible orange, and it made Alice sick, but she'd be out of here by tonight. She'd have to go back to the manor, naturally. Maybe call some of her dad's friends; they were the trustworthiest. She had to get clothes, food, valuables, necessaries… Alice chewed on her lip as she dropped her bathrobe around her ankles and walked across the room to the robes that uncle Ron had cleaned for her last night. She'd slept in his old Cannons t–shirt (Ginny had taken a regular Muggle one and had littered the front with Bludgers, Snitches, and Quaffles.) which was so large it went down her thighs. She lifted the hanger off the hook on the door and slipped the robe on it over her head after she had adorned her undergarments. She bent down to grab her shoes when she heard someone knock on her door. "Hello?"

"Alice, is that you honey? Ron told me what happened…"

"Come on in, Aunt Penelope."

"Thanks, love," Aunt Penelope whispered as she opened the door and walked through. "You know, ever since my Percy died in that attack on the Ministry, I've been thinking I could never relate to anyone –"

"Aunt Penelope, if you want to unload _your_ troubles on me…"

"No! No, dear. I'm not so stupid! I just wanted to let you know you have a shoulder to cry on."

Alice hugged her aunt. 'She may seem rather silly every now and again,' she thought, 'but she's really all right.'

"Breakfast! First come, first serve!" a strong female voice echoed down the hall.

Penelope grinned at the door and said, more to herself than to Alice, "I hope it's pancakes. What I wouldn't give for some of Ginny's pancakes…"

Alice smiled weakly as her aunt stood up and walked out the door. 'She's really all right…"

As Alice jumped the rest of the stairs, she smacked straight into her uncle. His blonde hair quivered as he glared at her. "S-Sorry. Won't happen again…" she stammered. in her gut, she was sort of afraid of him. His grim frown wavered slightly as his eyes flickered. Alice grinned at him, knowing very well that that would completely disarm him.

He smiled warmly. She was the only one she knew that got a solemn kind of respect from Uncle Draco. Aunt Ginny got a warm love of course, all her other uncles shared a sense of restrained hatred, and her own dad was very open with his feelings (except when young kids were around), but Draco always had admired Alice's eyes for some odd reason. He told her once that if she _dared_ to try colored contacts, he would blind her. "Hello Alice…" he said smoothly and bowed with a half-formal, half-comical air.

"Err… hi, Uncle Draco. How's work at the Ministry?"

Draco frowned and Alice knew she had hit a tender subject. "Krum should've stayed with Quidditch. The Ministry belongs to those with brains."

Alice smiled to dismiss herself and left before her uncle began to growl too much. She strolled into the dining room and grinned widely at the enormous, steaming plate staked high with Aunt Ginny's secret pancakes. Alice knew she couldn't truly smile ever again, but at least she could pretend to. She sat down and looked up with puppy eyes at her aunt. "Aunt Ginny?" she lied sweetly. "Do you think you might fix some food for me to take with me to Hogwarts? The elves have lost their touch…"

"Sure… honey? How much do you want?"

"Oh, about two weeks worth. Light though, so I can carry it around. I won't eat too much every meal."

"I'll see what I can do."

****

At the dead of night…

Alice slipped the pack of food onto her back. She pressed the note to the table and kissed it to leave a lip print. She opened the door and whispered quietly to every sleeping body, "I'll miss you. I really will. And … thanks for everything…And sorry Tucker, but I have to take the broom. You'll just have to use Floo Powder."

The screen door shut with a snap behind her, making Draco Malfoy stir, and he woke up. He shot up straight in bed, breathing heavily. "Ginny," he hissed, shaking her. "Ginny! Did you hear that?"

Ginny sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't hear anything. Come on back to bed." She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him sweetly. Draco's eyes closed, and he began to lie back down without letting his lips part from hers. 

He pulled away for just a moment, saying so it blissfully happy that the words didn't seem to come from his mouth, "But I really did hear something…" but Ginny just pulled him into a tighter kiss.

A/N: Krum lovers, don't murder me! I luv Krum just as much as you, but it's just something Draco would say…


	4. I'm Already There

Disclaimer: Duh. Hopefully you've read my other chapters, and then you should already know that I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: This is a real short chapter, explaining all those questions about who Alice's mother is. And PLEEZ review!!

**~**

**I'm already There**

"I'm already there.

Take a look around.

I'm the sunshine in your hair.

I'm the shadow on the ground.

I'm the whisper in the wind,

And your imaginary friend.

I'm already there.-"

_I'm already There by some artist whose name I don't know._

~

Alice dismounted from the broom and flattened the stray hairs back onto her head. She lifted the burlap bag off her shoulder and sat it by the tree, nest to her father's Firebolt 5000. The bottled water sloshed around inside the plastic, and the tin cans clinked together.

Alice tapped smartly on the solid ebony door using the limestone knocker. Momentarily, it was opened by a stately looking man in formal robes.

Alice started before the butler could open his mouth. "I would like to speak with the owner, please."

"May I ask who you think you are?"

"I _know who I am, perfectly well, thank you. I am Alice Potter."_

Alice never knew how devastating a name could be until then. She never forgot it.

The man ushered her into the ballroom-sized foyer and motioned for her to stay while he went to another part of this immense home.

He returned later and gestured stiffly for her to follow.

Alice had never seen such a peaceful yet frightening home. Portraits hung on every wall of evil looking mean and women. They snarled at her, and their eyes reminded Alice of someone, she just couldn't remember who.

The butler motioned her into a library and Alice obediently sat down across from an old man with perfect grey hair, a profiled nose, firm, tight mouth, and stern eyes. Alice felt fear flutter in her gut. 

The man leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands upon the cedar desk. His eyes burned into hers, and Alice stored just as ferociously back at him. 

He leaned back suddenly, blinked, and smiled. "I thought you might be one of us." His voice was rich and clean.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't understand."

"I mean you're related to me."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not related to you, but I was-"

"Who was your mother?" he barked, interrupting Alice's train of thought.

It took a moment to grope for the answer.

"Vigilance Potter, s-sir."

"Maiden name?"

"Malfoy, sir."

"Then you're family. My grand-daughter, as a matter of fact. I'm glad to see your father let you come back to us."

"I-I don't understand," she stuttered.

"I," he said, standing up and leaning on his solid cane, "am Lucius Malfoy. Vigilance was my daughter."

"Then… Draco Malfoy was also your son…"

"Yes."

"That makes no sense. My father hated Uncle Draco-"

"But he loved your mother. Don't ever disbelieve that. Too bad he was an honest person. He would've made a find son-in-law."

Alice buried her head in her hands. Her grandfather reached a hand to pat her on the shoulder.

"You'll stay with me for a while. We'll talk later." He snapped his fingers, and the severe butler reappeared. "Take Miss Potter to the family guest room. Tell the house-elves that they had better not screw up dinner tonight like they did last month, or they will all receive clothes." Alice gasped in surprise at the threat her grandfather had just made.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy." An ugly, deformed hand signaled to Alice, and she obediently followed.

Countless corridors later, she was roughly shoved into a room with forest green trimmings surrounding her and authentic silver furniture. She reached into her pocket for her wand and pulled it out. She murmured, "_Magnum opus," and the green trimmings changed to cobalt instantly. She sighed, and collapsed on the bed. _

"Well," she whispered to no one in particular, "this certainly isn't what I expected."


End file.
